


Unsteady Grasp

by CorsetJinx



Category: Final Fantasy IV: The After Years
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 09:25:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: It feels as though he’s been asleep for a long time. Aware of the world to some extent, enough to fight, to breathe and move - but powerless to do more.Now though - he knows he is awake. He has to be or his brother will slip through his fingers.





	Unsteady Grasp

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to _Steadiness_.

The world remains blurry even after the last wave of destructive power fades - his shout and those of the people around him giving way to the oppressive silence of the True Moon. His fingers are sticky, he knows that much. His nose fills with iron and sweat every time he inhales, a persistent thrumming in his ears that he’s trying not to pay attention to.

Cecil wants to be certain that nothing remains of the Dark Knight the Creator had summoned but all of his focus is centered around his brother sprawled on the crystalline tiles. White light flickers from Rosa’s hands, from Ceodore’s, his own. Curative spells uttered in their voices push back the quiet, almost enough to drown out Theodore’s labored breathing.

Someone, Kain perhaps, pushes a bottle into his free hand - the one not supporting his brother - and he downs the contents without question. There’s no time to ponder what ether tastes like exactly. It runs through him in a rush, snapping him awake and he immediately taps into his replenished magic to cast again. Cura flares brightly under his palm - highlighting the blood staining it and the draining color of Theodore’s face.

Eyes settle on him briefly but he pays them no mind.

He’s desperate. They’ll just have to forgive him for it.

“You aren’t going to fade here, brother.” Cecil mumbles - to Theodore. To himself, maybe. Cura flickers, less bright this time. More sustained as he gathers himself once more.

His brother breathes, less strained for the first time since he’d fallen - since the world had been washed in deadly violet and he vaguely remembered screaming.

It’s a beautiful sound.

“You are a man of your word, that I know. You said we would talk again - I know that.” He’s babbling at this point, Cecil knows. It’s hard to tell if Theodore hears him at all - if his words reach him over the sound of Rosa and Ceodore’s voices, now Kain’s, joining in with the casting.

He can’t recall the last time he saw or felt so much magic in one place.

Cecil feels himself open his mouth - to cast or to speak - when it happens.

Faint, but there.

Fingers squeeze his own, sticky and wet. Theodore breathes and it’s like a promise.

Cecil casts Cura and prays.


End file.
